Development of a Monster
by Anne Camp aka Obi-quiet
Summary: He hated his life, so he would do anything to be rid of it; endure any pain, learn any material, and sink to ANY level.


He hated going to school. Especially in Midgar. But he never missed a day, because that would throw his future down the drain. In his mind, just one negative mark was all it took. To ensure his future, he had to be perfect, because he _would _leave. Under _no_ circumstances would he stay in his "home" for longer than he had to. The sooner he could get out of that dump, the better. The sooner he got away from her...

"Hey, Nozawa!" He repressed a shudder at the name, refusing to let anyone know how much it galled him to have that family name. If he had his way, no one would ever know of his origins. Schooling his face to look as nonchalant as he could, he glanced over his shoulder to see the large form of Marcus Gin and his support pack of bullies approaching like they did most lunch periods.

He sighed inwardly. He'd only just recovered from their last encounter.

"I hear you took the highest score on the tests again," Gin said through a cruel grin. "Thought we discussed that last time."

Oh, they'd 'discussed' it alright. Gin belonged to a family of one of the government officials (he forgot which one at the moment, not that it mattered as they were all the same), and as such was expected to get the highest ratings in the school. The fact that some nobody from one of the pockets of slums beat him on a regular basis galled the larger boy to no end, which suited the smaller boy just fine, even if it was a little painful.

"As I recall," he turned and looked back out at the passing cars on the dirty streets he would one day escape, never having to observe the disgusting city again, "you said something about faking the scores so you could gain the highest placing in the class." He scoffed, a slight grin coming to his face. "I'm afraid your intelligence simply does not have the capacity to ever exceed mine, and I do not have the patience to dumb down my own scores to your pathetic level."

Oh yes, that would get him in trouble, but it felt too good to not say.

"What was that?" He felt the punch coming much sooner than it hit. He didn't even try to dodge. After all, he was above that. All of the air flew from his lungs as he landed in the dirt, hard.

"Hey," he heard Gin saying to the other boys as stars danced before his vision, "I wonder what would happen if we all stepped on his leg at once..." A flicker of fear shot up his spine as several feet came down on his leg hard.

xXx

She wouldn't even look at him. Not that he expected any different.

"You live to cause me problems," she muttered, not even waiting for him to catch up. Without showing any emotion, he leaned on the crutches, kept the plaster cast above the ground, and followed at his own pace. If he tried to keep up, she would only walk faster. This way, he could bring just a touch of revenge when she had to wait for him at the car. "I almost had this job," she muttered to herself, probably not caring if he overheard or not. "I could almost move out of that place, show him just what he left behind; that I was worth it. You ruined that."

The hospital had probably called her at work (something she'd forbidden him from doing), although he doubted she hadn't been on thin-ice already with the part-time job she'd been struggling to hold for the last month and a half. She came home drunk far too often for him to believe otherwise.

And nothing he did could help. So he'd long since stopped caring. Stopped trying. She didn't care that he constantly got perfect marks. She didn't care that the teachers praised his work ethic. Didn't even care that he'd brought home the national science fair grand prize twice. No, no matter how good he was, it would just never be good enough.

He wondered if it were a brain malfunction of some sort. As this thought crossed his mind, Gin's comment echoed across his mind.

"I wonder what would happen if..."

xXx

He didn't care about Gin's triumphant face. He rather resented the look of pity from the teacher. He didn't even notice the harsh snickers from many of the other kids. But, for the first time in his life, he could not fathom something. The mark on the paper before him said "B-", and it did not compute. He never failed classes.

Throughout the class period, he continued to stare in shock at the red mark on his report card. How could this possibly happen? Not by his own doing, so logically it had to be someone else. But who? A student would have a difficult time trying to access and change the school's records, and he couldn't think of a teacher who would resent him that much. He'd gone over each one of them five times in his mind already.

By the time the release bell rang, he'd come to one conclusion: He did not have enough evidence. So he decided to do the one thing he'd known he'd never do.

Ignoring the mocking stares from the other teenagers as they grabbed their book bags and filed out, he made his way to the front of the room and stood patiently before the teacher's desk.

"Mr. Nozawa," she acknowledged him after a few moments. "I'm assuming you've come to talk to me about your grade."

He nodded tersely, unwilling to trust himself to speak at this point.

She sighed and pulled out a stack of papers. "The assignment due on Friday, on planetary and lifestream theory; I never got one from you."

"The assignment was completed," he protested, firmly keeping his face blank and gazing at her through his new glasses.

"But it's not here."

He paused, thinking back. They'd passed that assignment to the front of the class. It wouldn't be difficult for one of the students...

Harken! Jim Harken, one of Gin's lackeys, sat two seats ahead of him. It wouldn't be difficult to take a paper and slip it into one's desk or backpack... Of course, he didn't have any proof. Hmm, perhaps he'd investigate this himself.

"Forgive me, ma'am," he said, bowing slightly. "It will not happen again."

And it didn't.

xXx

She'd finally gone too far. Hit him one too many times. Insulted his intelligence once too often. He didn't snap often. When he did...

It took them months to find the body (actually, he felt a twinge of pride that he was able to get the foul thing to not dissolve into the lifestream for that long). By that time, he'd already run every test he could think of, and come up with some extraordinarily convincing theories on the living body and the energy running through it. Everyone knew about mako and the lifestream. Many people believed people's spirits came from this lifestream. Now he had proof.

Of course, the fools in the police department didn't really see that, which is why he sat in the jail cell, staring out at the guard walking around outside. He limped slightly on his left side, and seemed jumpy. Was it his connection to the lifestream that made him act cowardly like that? What would happen if he strengthened that bond? Would the planet lend the subject more strength? If he did that to more humans, would they be able to finally contact the planet and talk with it as people could in the past (or so the rumors and legends said)? Would he be able to heal that limp? Or would something else happen? How could he strengthen the connection to the planet without causing mako poisoning, as people who came in contact with the fountains found in the wilderness had been reported to do?

Oh the possibilities, now that he could think on his discoveries. Truthfully, even though he currently sat in a prison cell, awaiting the trial that would undoubtedly declare him guilty of murder, it had been worth it.

A door opened in the distance, and then closed with a bang. Footsteps approached from the direction of the sound. The only indication the teenager heard anything was the narrowing of his eyes. Otherwise, he didn't move a muscle.

A figure stopped outside of his cell. The limping guard rushed forward to let him in, and he did so, stepping with a grace that only wealth and class could really polish.

The man who stepped into the cell couldn't have been older than 19. He had red-blond hair tied back in a short, neat pony-tail only just visible under the fedora on his head, and wore a matching, pin-striped business suit.

"Mr. Nozawa?" the man said, his calculating, gray-blue eyes sweeping over the younger man dressed in prison fatigues.

He didn't answer, but for once, he felt he'd met a man he would have to be slightly wary of intellectually. This man used his brain. He felt a smile come to his lips. It should prove an interesting challenge.

"And who, may I ask, are you?" So he couldn't help but sound a little condescending. No matter how intelligent, this man could not possibly hold grater intellect than himself.

"Shin-ra. Rudolph Shin-ra."

The younger teen sat forward, eyes belying only the slightest touch of interest. "From the Shin-ra Power Company?"

Mr. Shin-ra grinned. "One and the same. I have come with a proposition for you, Mr. Nozawa."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

The older man's grin widened. "One that could make us very, very rich."

A slight pause fell over the cell, before the youth sat back. "Please, continue."

xXx

Mr. Shin-ra had indeed come with a very sweet offer. He'd explained how he had recently come into inheritance of his father's company. The Shin-ra Power Company currently lead the way in all forms of power, but had stiff competition from rival companies, and they needed a new form of power to stay ahead. He believed that the lifestream be that new form of power.

So he'd set forth his offer to "Mr. Nozawa." If he would come and work for the man's company, Mr. Shin-ra had the connections to sweep the entire trial under the rug. Not only would he be free, with no permanent record, but he would have free reign over his own lab and his own experiments. As long as he worked for the company, of course.

He wasn't stupid. Far from it, actually. He accepted readily.

As Mr. Shin-ra nodded and walked out of the cell, he turned and looked back. "Is there anything you would wish to start immediately? Anything you might need at all?"

He thought for a moment. "Access to...subjects for experimentation," he said with a grin. It was not kind. "I will provide an in-depth list of other equipment tomorrow. Also, do not call me by my family name."

Mr. Shin-ra raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And then what should I call you?"

He smiled. "Hojo. Professor Hojo."

xXx

He'd say that revenge was sweet, but he'd gotten to a point where he didn't really care anymore. He watched as Marcus Gin screamed in pain, his body contorting as it reacted to the mako injections, and found (with some surprise) that he really did not care.

So he turned to the assistant beside him. "Make note, the injection purity will have to be cut by 20% for the next experiment. Also decrease the dosage to smaller amounts and inject them over the period of three days."

The assistant didn't even blink an eye. "Yes sir."

"Oh," Hojo grinned. Okay, so maybe he did feel _some_ satisfaction. "Dispose of this experiment. He is of no more use."

The assistant nodded again, and rushed off to make the proper documentations. Hojo turned back to watch the finished form of a full-fledged fiend appear in the tank, still roaring and screaming with pain. In a vaguely amused way, he wondered just when the results of an experiment had started to matter most to him.

* * *

A.N. I was going to put this in my drabbles section/story, but felt that it was more complete and could stand on its own. It was fun (if creepy...very creepy) to try and take a look at his background, as it's never really crossed my mind before.

Also know, Hojo is #1 on my "Character Hit List". I REALLY don't like him, but then that's what provided the challenge. ^^;


End file.
